Desire
by Lady-Izanami
Summary: Upon her father's death, beautiful headstrong Lady Levy knew that she must wed, for the protection of the isle Desire now fell to her. Yet one of her guardian's choice of prospective husband rode through her castle gates she not only felt scared but afraid All sinewy muscle and savage steel, Sir Gajeel of Wyckmere was not the poet she requested, but a fearsome knight. Gajeel x Levy
1. Prologue

This is based on the book Desire by Amanda Quick Also I **DO NOT OWN FAIRYTAIL. **The second half of this chapter is at the bottom so enjoy!

* * *

"It is extremely unlikely that the lady of Desire is still a virgin" Metalicana of Landry said. "But under the circumstances, I'm certain you'll find yourself able to overlook that aspect of the situation"

Gajeel looked at his father impassively. His reaction to the news that his future bride had already dishonored herself with another man was virtually undetectable, a mere tightening of his fingers around his wine cup.

As a bastard son who'd been obligated to make his way in the world with his own strength, he'd had years of experience of concealing his emotions. In truth he had become so skilled at the business that most people concluded that he had no strong emotion of any kind.

"You say she's an heiress?" Gajeel forced himself to concentrate on the most important element of the matter.

"She holds and estate?"

"Aye"

"In that case, she'll do fine as a wife." Gajeel hid his intense satisfaction

His father was right. As long as the lady was not pregnant with another man's babe, Gajeel was prepared to overlook the issue of his brides honor or lack the same for the sake of gaining lands of his own.

_Lands of his own._ The words shimmered with promise.

A place where he belonged; a place where he was not just the bastard son whose presence must be tolerated.; a place where he is welcomed and needed not merely because his skill with a sword was useful temporarily useful. He wanted to live in a place where he had the right to sit in front of his own hearth.

Gajeel was twenty-one years old and he knew that he might never again be granted this opportunity. He was a man who had long since learned to seize whatever chance fate brought his way. It was a philosophy which had served him well in the past.

"She is now the sole Mistress of the isle of desire." Metalicana sipped wine from his finely crafted silver cup and gazed thoughtfully at the fire. "Her father, Sir McGarden, favored travel and intellectual pursuits over working the land. Unfortunately, word has reached that he died several months ago on a journey in Spain. Murdered by Bandits"

"There are no male heirs?"

"Nay, two years ago, McGarden's only son Edmund, broke his neck in a tournament. Levy the only daughter, is the only one left. she inherits the manner"

"and as Sir McGarden's liege lord, you have wardship of his will marry at your command."

Metalicana's mouth twitched "That remains to be seen."

Gajeel realized that his father was barely containing a grin. The knowledge made him uneasy.

As a man whose own natural temperament had always been serious and deeply restrained nature, Gajeel was not much given to mirth. he rarely responded to mild amusements to jests and japes, that made others laugh aloud.

His unsmiling countenance nicely complemented his reputation as a ruthless man who could be exceedingly dangerous to cross. He had no particular objection to smiles or laughter ; he was just not often inclined to indulge either.

Now he waited wearily to learn what it was that Metalicana found so amusing in what should have been such a straight forward matter of business.

He studied his father's lean, and elegant profile in the light flames of the hearth. Metalicana was in his mid fifties, though he looked like he was still in his thirties. His shoulder length silver hair that covered one of his eyes, he captured the attention of every female who came within his sphere.

It was not only the power Metalicana had as King Makarov's favorite barons that made him an object of interest to females, Gajeel knew it was also Metalicana's handsome face and form that made him popular to women.

* * *

Metalicana's skill at seduction, employed quite freely both before and after his arranged marriage. Gajeel's mother, the youngest of the a noble family in the south, was one of his many conquests. As far as Gajeel knew he was the only adult illegitimate offspring. If there had been any others, they died during infancy.

To Metalicana's credit and his wife's thinly disguised displeasure, he had done his duty by his bastard son. He had acknowledged Gajeel from the start.

Gajeel had been raises by his mother until the age of six. During those years Metalicana had been a frequent visitor to the quiet manor house where Gajeel and his mother lived. But when Gajeel had turned six, nearing the age when the sons of nobles went into training for knighthood, his mother announced that she intended to take the veil.

There had been a fierce argument. Gajeel would never forget his fathers rage. But his mother had been adamant and in the end she had won. Metalicana had even provided the magnificent dowry that had made the convent more than happy to accept Gajeel's mother as a novitiate.

Metalicana had taken his bastard son home to Beckworth Castle. He had seen to Gajeel's education as a knight with the same care and diligence that he applied to his legitimate sons, and his heir, Lahar.

Metalicana's wife, Lady Minerva, beautiful, cold and proud, had no option but to tolerate the situation. Perhaps not unnaturally, however she did not go out of her way to make young Gajeel welcomed into the household.

Deeply aware of his status as an outsider, missing the studios, contemplative atmosphere of his mother household, Gajeel had poured all his energies into his training with sword and lance. He had practiced endlessly, seeking an elusive satisfaction on a quest for perfection.

When he was not honing his fighting skills, sought out the solitude of the library of the local Foire monastery. There he had read anything and every thing brother Freed, the librarian had given him.

By the time he was seventeen Gajeel had studied a wide variety of subjects. he had delved into treaties on mathematics and optics that had been translated from Greek and Arabic by Brother Freed. He had pondered Aristotle's theories of the four elements earth, water, air, and fire. He was fascinated by Plato's writing on astronomy, light and matter.

Many powerful lord, including his father, had considerable use for a man who knew how to hunt the thieves and marauding, renegade knights who were a constant threat to their remote estates and manors.

The business of snaring outlaws paid well and Gajeel wast adept at it. He had never been particularly enamored of the profession.

Four days ago Gajeel had received summons from To return to Beckworth Castle. Tonight he learned that his greatest wish will soon be fulfilled. It only required that he accepts a lady with a blemished reputation as a wife.

It was a small price to pay for what Gajeel wanted most. And Gajeel was accustomed to paying for what he wanted.

"How old is the Lady of Desire?" He asked

"Let me think, Levy would be seventeen now, I believe" Metalicana said

Gajeel frowned. "And still unwed?"

"I am told that she had no great wish to be wed," Metalicana said "Some women do not wish to be wed. your own mother for example. "

"I doubt that my mother had much choice in the matter after I was conceived." Gajeel said in a carefully neutral tone. this was old and all too familiar ground. He knew well how conceal bitterness. "she was fortunate to find a nunnery that would take her."

"Little did they realize, of course, that whichever house took her in would soon be under he command"

Gajeel shrugged. He saw his mother infrequently, but he corresponded with her regularly and he knew that Metalicana was correct. His mother was brilliant, formidable woman. Every bit as brilliant and formidable as Metalicana in fact.

Gajeel Focused his attention on the matter at hand. "Is Lady Levy ill-formed in some fashion?"

"Not to my knowledge. I haven't seen her since she was a child but as i recall she was a well made girl. she showed no promise of becoming a great beauty, but I noticed naught that would be deemed ugly or misshapen in her appearance." Metalicana cocked an eyebrow "Are her looks a matter of concern?"

"Nay" Gajeel gazed into the fire. "Only her lands are of concern to me."

"I thought as much."

"I was merely seeking reasons to why she has never wed."

Metalicana moved on hand in a dismissing gesture. the exquisite silver and black embroidery on his tunic gleamed in the firelight. "As I had said before some women have no great wish to be wed, however for one reason or another she is forced to wed."

"For the sake of her holdings?"

"Aye, the isle of Desire is like a plump bird ready for the picking. It need protection. She writes that there have already been problems with her neighbor Laxus of Dreyar, as well as with a and of brigands who are harassing her shipments of goods to London."

"So she is in need of a reliable husband who can defend her manner and you, sir, wish to be certain that Desire can still be profitable to you."

"Aye, the Isle isn't very large but it does develop a large amount of income from this" Metalicana picked up a small purple embroidered bad and tossed it to Gajeel. As soon as Gajeel caught the small pouch the scent of flowers and herbs hit his nose.

"Perfumes?"

"Aye, tis an island of flowers and herbs. And the products it send to the market are perfumes and creams of every description."

Gajeel looked at the fragrant little pouch in his hand "So I am to become a gardener?"

Metalicana Smiled " It will be something for a change for Kurogane of Wyckmere."

"Aye, that it will. I have little knowledge of gardening but I will soon learn whatever is necessary."

"You have always been quick in that regard, no matter what the subject."

Gajeel ignored the comment "So the lady of desire is willing to wed a man to protect her vast flower garden. And I want lands of my own. It would seem that she and I can strike a bargain."

"Mayhap"

Gajeel narrowed his eyes. "Is there some doubt?"

The smile that had been hovering around Metalicana's mouth turned into a brief laughing grin." I fear there is some competition for the position."

"What Competition?"

"Laxus of Dreyar, Levy's Nearest neighbor is also one of my vassals. He has had eyes on Desire for some time. In fact he is the chief reason why I suspect Lady Levy is no longer a virgin."

"He seduced her?!"

"From what my sources have gathered, they say Laxus virtually Kidnapped her last month and held her at Dreyar keep for some four days."

"And he then tried to force her into marring him?!"

"Aye, however she refused."

Gajeel raised an eyebrow at the news. He wasn't surprised at the tale. Kidnapping unwed heiresses was a common enough sport. But he was startled to learn that the lady was not immediately wed after the event. Few women would have refused after losing their virginity and their reputation to an encroaching lord. "A most unusual female."

"Aye, It seems Lady Levy has very particular requirements regarding the man who will be her lord."

Metalicana grinned again "She sent me a _recipe_ for a husband, in fact. She wishes to select one who meets the exact specifications, you see."  


"Hells Teeth... A recipe? I knew you were keeping something from me."

"She has written her requirements in great detail, Here see for your self"

Metalicana picked up a folded up parchment of the table beside him, and handed it to Gajeel.

Gajeel glanced at the broken seal and saw that it was in the shape of a rose. He read swiftly through the greeting and opening paragraph of the beautifully scripted letter, and skipped to the portion which detailed the ladies requirements.

* * *

_I have given your wishes and the needs of my people mush thought, my lord. I regretfully accept the necessity _

_of a marriage. To that end I have considered the matter with extreme care. Desire is a very remote place, as you _

_well know. I know of no __eligible men in the vicinity besides my neighbor, Sir Laxus, who is unexceptionable._

_I therefore respectfully ask that you send ma a selection of at least three or four suitors. I shall choose a husband _

_from among them. To assist you in the task of selecting the candidates for the position, I have prepared a recipe for the _

_perfect husband._

_You my lord, obviously have interest in these lands. i understand that you wish for them to be protected, as do I. From your_

_Point of view, therefore, the future lord of Desire must be a trustworthy knight who can command a small but effective group_

_of fighting men. I will remind you that he must bring such a group with him, as there are no trained men-at-arms here on _

_the island._

_In addition to that obvious requirement, which I know that you will see to, I have three more requirements of my own._

_I wish to specify them in detail so you and I are on the same page._

_First as regards, his physical appearance, must be a man of moderate proportions and stature. Second, my future lord must be a  
_

_man of cheerful countenance, and well-mannered, pleasuring disposition. Third is absolutely important, that my husband must be a _

_learned man, one who is capable of reading and enjoys intellectual discourse._

_I trust my three requirements are quite plain and my recipe is clear. There should be no problem in you finding several __candidates._

_Please send me the candidates quickly so that you don't lose anymore profits._

* * *

Gajeel refolded the letter aware of the unholy amusement in his father's eyes. "i wonder how she came about these requirements,"

Metalicana chuckled " I suspect she took the basic elements from some minstrel's ballad, you know the sort. They generally feature a chivalrous hero who vows his undying love to his lady."

"A lady who normally belongs to another man," Gajeel muttered

"The hero's liege lord, for example. Aye I know the sort of song you mean. i do not care for such my self."

"Ladies love them"

Gajeel shrugged "how many candidates do you intend to send?"

"Two, "

Gajeel's brow rose "not three or four?"

"Nay. In my experience you only ask for trouble when you give women too many choices."

"so two suitors them, myself and another,"

"Aye."

"Who shall I be competing against?"

Metalicana grinned evilly "Sir Laxus of Dreyar. good luck to you son. The ladies requirements are simple are they not?"

Gajeel handed the letter back to his father."she is fortunate, is she not? i meet one of her requirements. I can read. Gihee"

Gajeel made his way down the long hallway on the way to his room, so that he can pack his items for departure, when his step brother Lahar. Even thorough he has a very manner full appearance and seems to be a gentleman who excels at his role of heir of the family, he is actually a cocky little asshole. He passed me and bumped into my right should and began to speak.

"I hear you are getting another mans trash," Lahar said with a chuckle, I continued walking ignoring him

"Your just a bastard son who deserves second rate trash anyway," He said continued to walk away I was about to turn around and punched him in the face when one of the maids came and began talking to Lahar. If I punched him and the maid reported me i could kiss those lands good bye faster than a ship can sink. one of these days i will show him that even though I am a bastard son, I still am better than him.


	2. Chapter 1

Levy was in the convent gardens with Kinana, the Prioress of Saint Hermoine, when word reached her that the first of the suitors was on the Isle of Desire.

"A grand company of men has arrived Lady Levy. They are coming toward the village now," Happy called

Levy paused in the middle of a detailed discussion for extracting oil from roses."I beg your pardon, madam," she said to Prioress Kinana

"Of course." Kinana was a petite girl with violet-colored hair and green eyes, with a round head. Her attire consists of a lime green-colored blouse with a green neckline and trim, which is complimented by a long, white skirt, wearing green boots.

"This is an important event"

Levy turned to see young Happy hopping about in great excitement near the convent gatehouse. He waved his small hand at her.

A petite, blue haired, dark eyed lad of ten, he was a good natured combination of lively curiosity and unquenchable enthusiasm. He and his mother, Lady Lucy, had come to live on the Isle three years earlier. Levy was very fond of both of them. As her own family had dwindled down to nothing, leaving her alone in the world, she had grown very close to Happy and Lucy.

"Who is here, happy?" Levy braced herself for the answer. every inhabitant on the desire, with the exception of herself, had been eagerly anticipating this day for weeks. She was the only one who was not looking forward to the selection of the lord of desire.

"Tis the first of the suitors you said Lord Metalicana would send" Happy stuffed a handful of fish crackers in his mouth. "They say he appears to be a most powerful knight, Lady Levy . He brings a fine, great host of men-at-arms. I heard John Blacksmith say that it took half the boats in Dreyar to get all the men and horses and baggage from the mainland to our island."

A curious flutter of uneasiness made Levy catch her breath. She had promised herself that when the time came, she would be calm and businesslike about the matter. But now that the moment was upon her, she was suddenly vastly more anxious than she had thought to be.

"A great host?" Levy frowned.

"Aye." Happy's face glowed. "The sunlight on their helms is so bright, it hurts your eyes." He gulped down two more fistfuls of the crackers. "And the horses are huge. There is one in particular, John says, a great gray stallion with hooves that will shake the very earth when he goes past."

"But I did not request a great number of knights and men-at-arms," Levy said. "Desire requires only a small company of men to protect our shipments. What on earth am I to do with a large number of warriors underfoot? And all their horses, too. Men and horses eat a great deal of food, you know."

"I trust that you are right, madam." Levy lifted the fragrant pomander that hung from a chain on her girdle and inhaled the soothing blend of roses and herbs. The scent comforted her, as it always did. "Nevertheless, it will be a great nuisance having to feed and house so many men and horses. By Saint Mavis's ear, I do not like the notion of having to entertain all of these people. And this is only the first of the candidates."

"Calm yourself, Levy" Kinana said. "Mayhap the crowd that has disembarked down at the harbor is composed of more than one suitor. The three or four you ordered may have arrived all at the same time. That would explain why there are so many men and horses."

Levy cheered at the notion. "Aye, that must be it." She dropped the small pomander so that it dangled once more amid the folds of her gown. "All my suitors have arrived together. If they have each brought their own entourages, that would explain the large number of men and horses."

"Aye."

Another thought along the same lines struck Levy, one which immediately wiped away her momentary relief. "I do hope they will not stay long. It will cost a fortune to feed them all."

"You can afford it, Levy."

"That's not the point. At least, not entirely."

Kinana's eyes twinkled. "Once you have made your selection from among the candidates, the others, including their men and retainers, will take their leave."

"By Mavis's sainted toe, I shall choose quickly, then, so that we do not waste any more food and hay on this lot than is absolutely necessary."

"A wise plan." Kinana eyed her closely. "Are you so very anxious, my child?"

"No, no, of course not," Levy lied. "Merely eager to get the matter concluded. There is work to be done. I cannot afford to waste a great deal of time on this business of selecting a husband. I trust Lord Metalicana has only sent me candidates who meet all of my requirements."

"I'm sure he has," Kinana murmured. "You were most specific in your letter."

"Aye." Levy had spent hours formulating her recipe for a new lord of Desire.

Those hours had been spent after she had wasted even more time concocting dozens of clever reasons why she did not need a husband. To that end, she had called upon all the skills of rhetoric, logic, and debate that Kinana had taught her. She had been well aware that if she was to avoid the inevitable, she would need to give Lord Metalicana a truly brilliant excuse for refusing marriage.

Levy had tried out each finely reasoned argument first on Lucy and then on Prioress Kinana before committing it to parchment. Sympathetic to the cause, both of the women had considered the string of carefully crafted excuses one after the other, offering criticism and advice.

In the months since her father's death, Levy had been developing what she was certain was an absolutely unassailable, logically graceful argument against the necessity of marriage based on the naturally secure position of the Isle of Desire when disaster had struck.

Her neighbor on the mainland, Sir Laxus of Dreyar, had wrecked the endeavor by kidnapping her while she was on a short visit to Dreyar.

Furious with Laxus because he had ruined every-thing by providing clear evidence of her personal vulnerability, Levy had proceeded to make life at Dreyar Keep a living hell for him. By the end of her enforced stay, Laxus confessed himself glad to see the last of her.

Coming as it did on top of the increased predations of the robbers who infested the region, the kidnapping was the last stone in the sack. Levy knew that it was only a matter of time before Lord Metalicana heard the rumors. He would conclude that she was incapable of protecting Desire and he would act at once to see to the matter himself.

Outraged and frustrated by events as she was, Levy had to admit she could not entirely blame Metalicana for taking such a course of action. In his position, she would have done the same. The portion of the revenues to which he was entitled as Desire's liege lord were too plump and healthy to be put at risk.

And Levy could not risk the lives of the men from the village who accompanied the shipments of perfume. Sooner or later, the robbers were going to kill someone when they attacked.

In truth, she had no choice and she knew it. She had a duty and an obligation to the people of Desire. Her mother, who had died when Levy was twelve, had taught her from the cradle that the wishes of the lady of the manor came second to the needs of her people and the lands that sustained them.

Levy knew full well that although she possessed the skills to keep Desire a fat and profitable estate, she was no trained warrior.

There were no household knights, nor even any men-at-arms left on Desire. The few who had once lived in the hall had dispersed over the years. Some had accompanied her brother Edmund to the tournaments and had not returned to the isle after he had been killed. Desire, after all, was not a very exciting place. It did not suit young knights and squires who were eager for glory and the profits to be made competing in the endless round of tournaments or by going on Crusade.

The last two men-at-arms who had lived on Desire had journeyed to Spain with Levy's father, Sir McGarden. They had sent word back to her of her father's death, but they themselves had not returned. With their lord dead, they had been freed of their vows of fealty. They had found new masters in the south.

Levy did not have the least notion of how to go about obtaining a reliable troop of armed men, let alone how to train them and control them.

The first letter of warning from Metalicana had arrived six weeks ago. It had been politely worded, full of gracious condolences on the death of Sir McGarden. But there had been no mistaking the implications of the veiled comments concerning the defense of Desire. The second letter had made it clear that Levy must wed.

Levy, much to her annoyance, had reached the same decision.

Knowing that marriage was inevitable, Levy had done what she always did when it came to matters of duty. She had set about fulfilling her responsibilities.

In typical fashion, however, she had taken charge of the situation in her own way.

If she was to be saddled with the encumbrance of a husband, she had told Lucy and Kinana, she was determined to have some say about the man she would wed.

"They are coming closer, Lady Levy," Happy yelled now from the gatehouse.

Levy brushed the fine dark earth of the convent garden from her hands. "I pray that you will excuse me, madam. I must get back to the hall so that I can change my clothing before my guests arrive. These fancy knights from the south will no doubt expect to be received with a certain amount of ceremony."

"As well they should," Kinana said. "I know you are not looking forward to this marriage with any enthusiasm. But be of good cheer, my child. Remember, there will most likely be three, possibly even four candidates. You will have a goodly choice."

Levy slid her old friend and teacher a quick, searching glance. She lowered her voice so that neither Happy nor the porteress at the nearby gatehouse could overhear. "And if I do not care for any of the three or four suitors Lord Metalicana has sent?"

"Why, then, we shall have to ask ourselves if you are merely being extremely selective, mayhap even too particular about the choice of a lord for Desire, or if you are seeking excuses not to go through with the thing."

Levy made a face and then gave Kinana a rueful grin. "You are always so practical and straightforward, madam. You have a way of going to the heart of the matter."

"It has been my experience that a woman who is practical and honest in her reasoning, especially when she is arguing with herself, generally accomplishes more than one who is not."

"Aye, so you have always taught me, madam." Levy straightened her shoulders. "I shall continue to bear your words of wisdom in mind."

"Your mother would have been proud of you, my child."

Levy noticed that Kinana did not mention her father. There was no need. They were both well aware that Sir McGarden had never been interested in the management of his lands. He had left such mundane matters to his wife and later his daughter, while he himself had pursued his scholarly studies and experiments.

A loud shout went up from the street on the other side of the convent wall. Voices rose in wonder and excitement as the villagers gathered to see the new arrivals.

Happy shoved his packet of crackers into the pouch that hung from his belt and hastened over to a low bench that stood against the wall.

Too late Levy realize what he had in mind. "Happy, don't you dare climb up on top of that wall. You know what your mother would say."

"Don't worry, I won't fall. I just want to see the knights and their huge horses." Happy got up on top of the bench and started to hoist his small frame atop the stone wall.

Levy groaned and exchanged a resigned glance with Kinana. There was no doubt but that Happy's overprotective mother would have had a fit if she were present. Lucy was convinced that Happy was delicate and must not be allowed to take any risks.

"Lady Lucy is not here," Kinana said dryly, as if Levy had spoken aloud. "So I suggest you ignore the matter."

"If Happy falls, Lucy will never forgive me."

"One of these days she'll have to stop coddling the lad." Kinana shrugged philosophically. "If she does not cease hovering over him like a mother hen with her chick, he's going to turn into a fearful, anxious young man."

"I know, but one cannot entirely blame Lucy for wanting to protect Happy " Levy said quietly. "She's lost everyone else. She cannot bear the risk of losing her son, too."

"I can see them." Happy swung one leg over the top of the wall. "They're already in the street." He shaded his eyes against the spring sunlight. "The giant gray horse is in front of the rest. I vow, the knight who rides the beast is almost as big as his horse."

Levy frowned. "I requested candidates of moderate size and stature."

"He is wearing a shiny helm and a mail hauberk," Happy exclaimed. "And he carries a silvery shield that glitters like a great minor in the sun."

"A great mirror?" Intrigued, Levy hurried forward along the garden path to see the newcomers for herself.

"It is very strange, my lady. Everything about the knight is silver or gray—even his clothing and his horse's trappings are gray. It is as though he and his stallion were fashioned entirely of silver and smoke."

"Silver and smoke?" Levy looked up at Happy. "Your imagination is running off with your wits."

"'Tis true, I swear it." Happy sounded genuinely awed by the sight he was witnessing.

Levy's curiosity grew swiftly. "Just how big is this smoke and silver knight?"

"He is very, very big," Happy reported from his perch. "And the knight who rides behind him is almost as large."

"That will not do at all." Levy went to the gate and peered out into the street. Her view was blocked by the throng of excited villagers.


	3. Chapter 2

Word of the newcomers' arrival had spread quickly. Virtually everyone had turned out to witness the grand spectacle of a troop of mounted knights on Desire. John Blacksmith, Robert Cooper, Alice the brewer, and three muscular farmers stood in Levy's way. All of them were taller than she was.

"Do not alarm yourself about the matter of this gray knight's size." Kinana came up to stand beside Levy. Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "Once again, we must allow for young Happy's somewhat limited experience of the world. Any knight astride a horse would appear huge to him. It's all that armor that makes them seem so large."

"Yes, I know. Still, I would like very much to see this gray knight for myself." Levy measured the height from the bench to the top of the wall with her eyes. "Happy, prepare to give me a hand."

Happy tore his gaze away from the sights long enough to glance down at her. "Do you wish to sit up here on the wall with me, Lady Levy?"

"Aye. If I remain down here, I shall be the last person on the isle to see the invasion." Levy lifted the skirts of her long-waisted overtunic and stepped up onto the bench.

Kinana gave a small snort of disapproval. "Really, Levy, this is extremely unseemly. Only think how embarrassed you will be if one of your suitors sees you comporting yourself like a village hoyden up there on the wall. He might chance to recognize you later at your hall."

"No one will notice me sitting up here. From the sound of it, our visitors are far too occupied with putting on a fine show for the village. I mean to see the performance for myself."

Levy grasped the edge of the wall, found a chink in the stones with the toe of her soft leather boot, and struggled to pull herself up beside Happy.

"Have a care, my lady." Happy leaned down to catch hold of her arm.

"Do not concern yourself," Levy panted as she swung first one leg and then the other over the broad stone wall. "I may be older than ye, but I can still climb walls." She grinned at Happy as she righted herself and adjusted her skirts. "There, you see? I did it. Now, then, where is this knight made of silver and smoke?"

"He's at the top of the street." Happy pointed toward the harbor. "Listen to the thunder of the horses' hooves. 'Tis as if a great, howling tempest were blowing in off the sea."

"They are certainly making sufficient noise to wake the dead." Levy pushed back the hood of her mantle and turned to look toward the top of the narrow street.

The rumble and thunder of hooves was closer now. The villagers grew quiet in anticipation.

And then Levy saw the knight and the stallion fashioned of silver and smoke. She caught her breath, suddenly comprehending Happy's awe.

Man and horse alike appeared to be composed of all the elements of a magnificent storm: wind, rain, and lightning made solid flesh. It needed only a single glance to know that this bleak, gray fury, once roused, would be capable of destroying anything that lay in its path.

For a moment the sight of the silver-and-smoke knight left Levy as speechless as it had the villagers in the street below. A desperate sinking sensation seized her stomach as she realized that she was undoubtedly looking at one of her suitors.

Too big, she thought. Much too large. And too dangerous. Definitely the wrong man.

The gray knight rode at the head of a company of seven men. The group was made up of knights, men-at-arms, and one or two servants. Levy gazed curiously at the warriors who rode behind the great gray war machine. She had seen very few fighting men in her time, but she knew enough to be aware that most of them favored strong, brilliant hues in their attire.

These men all followed the fashion of their leader. They were dressed in somber shades of gray and red and black, which somehow made them seem all the more lethal.

The new arrivals were very close now. They filled the narrow street. Banners snapped in the breeze. Levy could hear the squeak and glide of steel on leather. Harness and armor moved together in well-oiled rhythms.

The heavily shod horses came forward like the huge engines of battle that they were. They moved at a slow, relentless pace that underscored their power and made certain that all those present had ample opportunity to view the spectacle.

Levy stared at the strange sight with the same degree of amazement as everyone else. She was vaguely aware of low-voiced whispers rising and falling across the crowd in a wave that had its starting point at the small stone cell that housed the village recluse.

Fascinated by the mounted men in the street, Levy ignored the low murmurs at first. But as the whispers grew in volume, they finally drew her attention.

"What are they saying, Happy?"

"I don't know. Something about steel I think."

Levy glanced over her shoulder toward the cell, which was built into the convent wall. Porlyusica the recluse lived there, having chosen to become an anchorite nearly ten years earlier. According to the dictates of the religious path she followed, she never emerged from her cell.

As a professional recluse, Porlyusica was supposed to dedicate herself entirely to prayer and meditation, but the truth was, she devoted herself to village gossip. She was never short of that commodity because during the day nearly everyone passed by her window. Many stopped to talk or seek advice. Whenever someone paused to visit, Porlyusica dealt with that individual the way a milkmaid dealt with a cow. She drained her visitor for every tidbit of information.

Porlyusica also performed the offices of her calling, which included offering advice to all who came to her window, with great zeal Not infrequently she offered advice even though none had been requested. She favored predictions of dark foreboding and was quick to warn against impending doom and disaster.

Occasionally she was right.

"What are they saying?" Kinana called up to Levy.

"I'm not certain yet." Levy strained to hear the rising tide of whispers. "Happy says it's something about Steel I think the recluse started the talk."

"Then we had best disregard it," Kinana said.

"Listen," Happy interrupted. "You can make out the words now."

The crest of the whispers raced forward, riding the sea of villagers.

"… Kurogane (black steel):'

"They say he be Kurogane from someplace in the south. I did not catch the name …"

"Kurogane of Wyckmere?"

"Aye, that's it, Wyckmere. He is known as Kurogane of Wyckmere. 'Tis said he carries a great sword named the Iron God Sword"

Happy's eyes widened. He shivered with the thrill of the whispered words and promptly reached into his belt pouch for another handful of crackers "Did you hear that, Lady Levy?" he asked "Kurogane of Wyckmere."

"Aye." Levy noticed that several people in the crowd crossed themselves as the news reached them, but the glitter of awestruck excitement did not fade from their expressions. If anything, she realized with dismay, the villagers appeared more enthralled than ever by the oncoming knights.

When all was said and done, Levy thought, her people were an ambitious lot. They were no doubt envisioning the prestige that would devolve upon them if they were to gain a lord who wore the trappings of a fearsome reputation.

A reputation was well and good, Levy reflected, unless one was obliged to marry it.

"Kurogane of Wyckmere," Happy breathed with a reverence that by rights ought to have been reserved for a prayer or a holy vision. "He must be a very great knight, indeed."

"What I would like to know," Levy said, "is where are the others?"

"What others?"

Levy scowled at the approaching riders. "There are supposed to be at least three other knights from which I shall choose a husband. These men all appear to ride beneath one man's banner."

"Aye, well, this Kurogane of Wyckmere is nearly as large as three men put together," Happy said with great satisfaction. "We don't need any others."

Levy narrowed her eyes. Kurogane was not that big, she thought, but he was certainly formidable-looking. He was not at all of the moderate proportions she had requested.

The gray knight and his entourage were almost in front of her now. Whatever else could be said, the new arrivals were providing a wondrous entertainment for all present. It would be interesting to see if the other suitors could improve upon this display of steel and power.

She was so caught up in the unusual sights and sounds of the event that she barely noticed another ripple of whispers as it washed through the crowd. She thought she heard her own name spoken, but she paid no attention. As the lady of Desire, she was accustomed to having her people discuss her. It was the way of things.

Kinana peered up at her. "Levy, you had best return immediately to your hall. If you stay up here on the wall, you will not be able to get back in time to receive this grand knight in a proper manner."

"'Tis too late now, madam." Levy raised her voice to be heard over the din of voices and thudding hooves. "I shall have to wait until they have gone past before I can make my way through the street. I am trapped here until the crowd has dispersed. Lucy and the servants will see to the business of greeting our visitors."

"What are you saying?" Kinana chided. "Lucy and the servants can hardly provide the sort of welcome the future lord of Desire will be expecting."

Levy turned her head and grinned down at Kinana "Ah, but we do not know if this gray knight will be the future lord of Desire, do we? In fact, I think it highly unlikely. From what I can see, he is not at all the right size."

"Size, my child, is the least of it," Kinana muttered.

The thunder of hooves and the rattle of harness ceased abruptly. An astonished gasp from Happy and the sudden hush that had fallen over the throng brought Clare's head back around very swiftly.

She was astonished to see that the troop of mounted men, which had been making slow, stately progress through the center of the village, had came to a complete halt right in the middle of the street.

Directly in front of where she sat on the wall.

Levy swallowed uneasily when she realized that the gray knight was looking straight at her. Her first instinct was to slide back over the edge of the wall and drop discreetly out of sight into the garden.

But it was too late to flee. She would have to brave it out.

Levy was suddenly acutely conscious of her dirt-stained gown and windblown hair. Her palms grew moist as she gripped the edge of the sun-warmed stone wall.

Surely he wasn't looking at her.

He could not be looking at her.

There was no reason she should have caught the attention of the gray knight. She was just a woman sitting on a wall watching the spectacle along with the rest of the villagers.

But he was looking at her.

An odd stillness settled over the scene as the silver-and-smoke knight gazed thoughtfully at Levy for an endless moment. It seemed to her that even the very breeze had ceased. The leaves of the trees in the convent garden hung motionless. Not a sound could be heard, not even the snap of a banner.

Levy looked into shadowed, unreadable eyes framed by a steel helm, and prayed that Kurogane of Wyckmere would take her for one of the villagers.

At some unseen command, the great dappled gray stallion started toward the convent wall. Those who stood in the beast's way instantly melted aside to clear a path. Everyone's eyes went straight to Levy.

"He's coming over here, my lady," Happy squeaked. "Mayhap he recognizes you."

"But we have never met." Levy's fingers tightened on the stone. "He cannot know who I am."

Happy opened his mouth to say something else but closed it abruptly again when the massive war-horse halted directly in front of Levy. The gray knight's gaze was level with her own.

Levy looked deeply into brilliant, unsmiling eyes that were the color of crimson blood. She knew in that moment that the gray knight was aware of her identity.

Levy held her breath, trying frantically to think of a clever way to deal with the situation. She had never faced such an awkward moment in her life.

"I seek the lady of Desire," the knight said.

A curious tremor flashed through Levy at the sound of his voice. She did not know why she reacted so strangely to it, because it certainly suited him. It was low and dark and vibrant with controlled power.

She clutched at the stone in order to keep her fingers from trembling. Then she raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. She was mistress of this manor and she intended to conduct herself in a manner that befitted that title, even if she was facing the most formidable-looking man she had ever met in her life.


	4. Chapter 3

"I am she whom you seek, sir. Who are you?"

"I am Gajeel of Wyckmere."

Levy remembered the whispers. The Hellhound of Wyckmere. "I have heard that you are called by another name;"

"I am called by many other names, but I do not answer to all of them."

There was a clear warning in the words. Levy heard it and decided to fall back upon the safety of good manners. She inclined her head in a civil fashion.

"I bid you welcome to Desire, Sir Gajeel. Allow me to thank you on behalf of the entire village for the fine entertainment you have provided for us this day. We are rarely fortunate enough to be allowed to view such grand spectacles here in our small village."

"I am pleased that you are satisfied with what has transpired thus far, my lady. I trust you will be equally pleased with the remainder of the performance." Gajeel released the reins, raised his mailed hands, and removed his helm.

He did not glance over his shoulder nor give any signal that Levy could see. He merely held the gleaming helm out to the side. Another knight rode forward at once, took the steel helm from Gajeel's hand, and retreated back to join the other warriors.

Levy studied Gajeel with a curiosity she could not completely conceal, even for the sake of good manners. This was one of the men who had been sent to vie for her hand, after all. She was surprised to discover that something deep within her was oddly satisfied by the look of him.

He was definitely too large, but somehow that glaring fault did not seem quite as alarming now as it had when she had composed her recipe for a husband. The reason was obvious. In spite of his size and obvious physical power, something told her that this was not a man who would rely on brute strength alone to obtain his ends.

Gajeel of Wyckmere was obviously a trained knight, well versed in the bloody arts of war, but he was no thick-skulled fool. Levy could see that much in his face.

The sunlight gleamed on his heavy, long mane of black hair. There was that about his fierce, stony features which reminded Levy of the great cliffs that protected her beloved isle.

This was a man who had fought for everything he wanted in life.

He watched Levy as she examined him. He did not appear to object to her scrutiny. He simply sat waiting calmly and patiently for judgment in a manner which suggested that the verdict did not concern him. It struck her then that he had his own ends and he intended to achieve them regardless of her decisions and conclusions.

That realization worried Levy. Kurogane of Wyckmere would not be easily denied once he had determined upon a goal.

But then, she could be just as determined in the pursuit of her own goals, Levy reminded herself. For all intents and purposes she had been in command of this isle and everything on it since the age of twelve.

"Well, my lady?" Gajeel said. "Are you satisfied with your future lord?"

Her future lord? Levy blinked in amazement. She did not know whether to laugh or scold him for his arrogance. She settled on a polite but distinctly cold smile.

"I cannot say," Levy murmured. "I have not yet met the other candidates for the position."

"You are mistaken, madam. There are only two, myself and Sir Laxus of Dreyar."

Levy's lips parted in shock. "But that's not possible. I requested a selection of at least three or four knights."

"We do not always get what we request in this life, do we?"

"But you do not meet any of my requirements, sir," Levy sputtered. "I mean no offense, but you are not precisely the right size. And you appear to be very much a man of war, not a man of peace." She glowered at him. "Furthermore, I do not gain the impression that you are of a cheerful temperament."

"My size I can do nothing about. And 'tis true that I have been well trained in the art of war, but I swear to you that I seek a quiet, peaceful life. As for my temperament, who is to say? A man can change, can he not?"

"I'm not at all certain of that," Levy said warily.

"I can read."

"Well, that is something, I suppose. Nevertheless—"

"My lady, it has been my experience that we all must learn to make do with what is granted to us."

"No one knows that better than I," Levy said icily. "Sir, I shall be blunt. You have come a long way and given us a fine show. I do not wish to disappoint you, but in all fairness, I fear I must tell you that you are very unlikely to qualify for the position of lord of Desire. Mayhap it would be best if you and your men left on the same boats that brought you here."

"Nay, lady. I have waited too long and come too far. I am here to claim my future. I have no intention of leaving."

"But I must insist—"

There was a soft, deadly sigh of sound. Gajeel's sword appeared in his hand as if by magic. The swift, terrifying movement brought a collective gasp from the crowd. Levy halted in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes widened.

Sunlight danced and flashed on steel as Gajeel held the blade aloft.

Once again everything and everyone seemed to freeze into utter stillness.

It was young Happy who managed to shatter the spell.

"You must not hurt my lady," he yelled at Gajeel. "I will not let you hurt her."

The crowd was as stunned by Happy's boldness as it was at the sight of the drawn blade.

"Hush, Happy," Levy whispered.

Gajeel looked at Happy. "You are very brave, boy. There are those who flee in fear when they gaze at the Iron God Sword."

It was clear that Happy was frightened, but he wore an expression of stubborn determination. He glared at Gajeel. "Do not hurt her."

"I will not hurt her," Gajeel said. "Indeed, as her future lord, I am well pleased to see that she has had such a bold protector to watch over her until my arrival. I am in your debt, lad."

Happy's expression became one of uncertainty.

Gajeel reversed the sword with another lightning' swift movement. He extended the blade, hilt first, toward Levy in an unmistakable gesture of homage and respect. He waited, along with everyone else, for her to take hold of the weapon.

A murmur of astonishment and approval swept through the crowd. Levy heard it. She sensed Happy's barely contained excitement. The expectant tension in the atmosphere was overwhelming.

To refuse the sword would be a move fraught with risk. There was no telling how Gajeel would react or what his mounted warriors might do to retaliate. They could destroy the entire village in a matter of minutes.

To accept the blade, however, was to give Gajeel and everyone else cause to believe that his suit would be favorably received.

It was a trap. A rather neat one, Levy had to admit, but definitely a trap. It was a snare with only two exits, both of which were dangerous. And it had been very deliberately set. But then, she had known from the first that this was a man who used his wits as well as his strength to gain his ends.

Levy looked down at the hilt of the polished length of steel. She saw that the pommel was set with a large chunk of rock crystal. The cloudy gray stone appeared to be filled with silvery smoke from unseen fires.

Knowing that there was no way out of the trap, Levy chose one of the only two options available. Slowly she reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword. The weapon was so heavy that she had to use both hands to hold it.

A great cry of jubilation went up from the crowd. Happy grinned. Cheers filled the air. Armor clashed and rang as the mounted knights and men-at-arms brandished their lances and struck their shields.

Levy looked at Gajeel and felt as if she had just stepped off one of the high cliffs of Desire.

Gajeel reached out with his huge, mail-covered hands, caught her up, and swept her off the wall. The world spun around Levy. She very nearly dropped the big sword.

An instant later she found herself settled safely across the saddle in front of Kurogane She was steadied by a mail-clad arm the size of a tree. She looked up and saw the satisfaction blazing in Gajeel's eyes.

Levy wondered why she felt as if she were still falling.

Gajeel raised one hand to summon a knight. A hard-faced warrior rode forward.

"Aye, Sir Gajeel?"

"Patherlily" Gareth pitched his voice so that his man could hear it above the thundering cheers of the crowd. "Escort my lady's noble protector in a manner which befits his excellent service."

"Aye." Patherlily eased his mount closer to the wall and held out his arms to seize Happy by the waist. He lifted the lad off the wall and settled him onto his saddle bow.

Levy saw Happy's eyes grow huge as he was carried off through the crowd astride the massive war-horse. She realized with wry chagrin that Gajeel had just gained a loyal follower for life.

Levy listened to the exultant shouts of her people as Kurogane of Wyckmere walked his gray stallion through the crowded street. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Kinana standing in the gatehouse entryway.

The prioress waved cheerfully.

Levy clutched the Iron God Sword and considered carefully the excellently set snare in which she had been caught.


	5. Chapter 4

"Presenting the Iron God Sword to the lady was a pretty gesture." Pantherlily grinned as he watched Gajeel soap himself in the large bathing tub. "Quite unlike you, if I may say so."

"I'll say, I would haven't believed it if I didn't see it with my own two eyes" Natsu exclaimed pouring water on his hair

"You think me incapable of pretty gestures?" Gajeel shoved his wet hair out of his eyes and looked at his trusted friends.

Pantherlily lounged on a cushioned window seat. The sunlight shone on his short black hair A seasoned knight some six years older than Gareth, Pantherlily was a heavily muscled man of surprisingly handsome countenance.

Lord Metalicana had hired Pantherlily to be Gajeel's mentor when Gajeel had turned sixteen. The older man was both a thoughtful tactician and a skilled warrior. He had been present the day Gajeel had won his spurs and the knighthood that went with them. The event had followed a violent encounter with a band of Bandits who had been terrifying villagers on some of Metalicana's lands. That was how he meet the man know as Salamander.

Salamander was abandoned by his father, and was found by the group of Bandits. They raised him and taught him the basics of using a sword. Over the years he became arrogant because he had been able to defeat many other knights who were sent by Metalicana, however he was not prepared for when Gajeel appeared ready to fight.

The blood of his comrades spattered across Gajeel's chest and face. The demonic grin that was on his face that sent shivers down salamander's spine, but it was not just his demonic appearance that scared him... No, it was the fact that he had killed his comrades without a second thought, with no mercy or remorse is what scarred him the most. Salamander raised his short to bock against Gajeel's strike however he was too strong and Salamander's sword went flying and Gajeel sliced the upper half of his body leaving a large wound. Salamander faded in and out of conscience before passing out.

Salamander awoke in a large bed and saw a man with short black hair who noticed he had awoke and called in the very man who put him in the pain he was in now.

"What do you want with me?" Salamander demanded, he simply ignored the question

"What is you name?" He asked taking out a quill and paper

"I have no obligations to tell you"

"I just saved your life, and yet you won't allow me to know your name." Salamander looked at the man for a few moments and then decided to

speak

"I'm Salamander Dragneel, but everyone calls me Natsu."

"Your age?"

"I am of 16, why would you care aren't you going to kill me?"

"If I was going to kill you I wouldn't have bothered for your name, I want you to become on of my vassals"

"Why would you want me of all people?"

"I see talent when it appears. It is basically you become my vassal, or I turn you in and you spend the rest of your life rotting away in a jail call" Natsu weighted the two options in his head being sure to make the best decision

"Fine i'll become you vassal," He said with a Determined glare.

The three had been together since that day. Their association was founded on friendship and anchored by trust and mutual respect. Gajeel had learned a great deal from Pantherlily in the beginning and he still listened to the other man's advice. But somewhere along the way their relationship had gradually became that of professionals who dealt with each other as equals.

It was Gajeel who now gave the commands, however.

It was Gajeel who had gathered a tightly knit, well-disciplined band of men around him and shaped them into a formidable weapon whose services went for a very high price.

It was Gajeel who had selected potential employers and decided how and when to sell the services of his men.

He had assumed the role of leader not because of his connection to Metalicana of Landry, but simply because it seemed natural for all concerned. For Gajeel, the will to command was inherent, as unquestioned an impulse as breathing.

Panther Lily had no great interest in the position of leader. His was an independent nature. He swore fealty to those of his own choosing and the lord to whom he gave his loyalty could be assured of unswerving service. Four years earlier Panther Lily had sworn fealty to Kurogane of Wyckmere.

Panther Lily knew Gajeel better than anyone, including Metalicana. He was well aware that Gajeel had never before offered the Iron God Sword to man or woman, lord or lady, master or mistress.

"I will admit that you have a way with grand and impressive gestures." Panther Lily stroked his jaw thoughtfully. "With you, such gestures always conceal clever traps. But this was an unusual move, even for you."

"It was an unusual situation." Natsu Replies

"Still, it was merely another snare, was it not? You left the lady little alternative but to accept the Iron God Sword"

Gajeel shrugged.

"It would have been awkward if she had turned the blade on you and tried to run it through your gut." Natsu said

"She was hardly likely to do that. The greater risk was that she would refuse to accept it." Gajeel held the scented soap to his nose and sniffed cautiously. "Does it seem to you that everything here on Desire smells of flowers?"

"The whole damned isle smells like a garden. I vow, even the village ditch is perfumed."

"It appeared that it was linked to the sea through a channel of some sort." Gajeel frowned thoughtfully. "The refuse is no doubt washed out with the tide. The garderobes here in the hall empty into a similar sort of system. Very interesting."

"I have never understood your curiosity about clever devices." Natsu drew in a long breath, inhaling the scent of spring that poured through the open window behind him. "Tell me, what would you have done if the lady had refused the blade?" Panther Lily asked

"It no longer matters, does it? She did take the blade."

"And sealed her fate, is that what you believe? I would not be too certain of that, my friend. I have a feeling that the lady of Desire is a resourceful female. From what you have told me, 'tis she who has kept this manor so fat and profitable."

"Aye. Her mother taught her the secrets of perfume making. Her brother apparently spent all his time riding from one tournament to another until he finally got himself killed. Her father was a scholar who had no interest in managing his lands. He preferred to spend his time in Spain translating Arab treatises."

Panther Lily smiled slightly. "What a pity you never made his acquaintance. The two of you would have had much to discuss."

"Aye." Gajeel felt a sudden surge of satisfaction. Once wed, he would retire from hunting outlaws and return to his first love—hunting the treasures buried in books and manuscripts, such as those Levy's father had collected. Water cascaded off his big frame as he stood and reached for a drying cloth. "Hell's teeth. I smell like a budding rose."

Panther Lily grinned. "Mayhap your new lady will appreciate the scent. Tell me, how did you guess that the wench on the convent wall was in truth the mistress of Desire?"

Gajeel made a small, dismissing movement with one hand while he dried his hair with the cloth. "'Twas obvious she was the right age. And she was better dressed than any of the villagers."

"Aye. Nevertheless—"

"She bore herself with an air of confidence and authority. I knew that she must be either an inhabitant of the convent who had not yet taken the veil, or the lady of the manor. I gambled on the latter."

Gajeel recalled his first view of Levy. From his position astride his stallion, he had noticed her as she clambered up to sit atop the stone wall. She had been a lithe, graceful figure dressed in a orange gown and saffron mantle. The neck, hem, and sleeves of her tunic had been embroidered in white and yellow, as had the wide girdle. The latter had rested low on her hips, emphasizing a narrow waist and the womanly flare of her thighs.

To Gajeel, the woman on the wall had been the embodiment of spring itself, as fresh and vivid as the fields of roses and lavender which carpeted the isle.

Her shoulder length, blue hair, loosely secured by a hair band, had gleamed with a rich luster in the sun. But it was her face which had caught and held his attention. Her striking, fine-boned features had been as alight with unabashed curiosity and excitement as the face of the lad who sat beside her. A gracious but unmistakable pride glowed in her expression, the look of a woman accustomed to command.

Her huge brown eyes, however, had held a deep wariness. His own falcon-sharp gaze, schooled by years spent hunting outlaws to note the smallest of details, had not missed that look of caution. It had, in fact, provided him with the final clue to her true identity.

The well-dressed lady on the wall had a very personal interest in the knights who were invading her domain.

Gajeel knew that he had taken a calculated risk when he had decided to ride over to the wall to confront her. He had been a little concerned that she would slip back into the convent garden. But she had done no such thing. As he suspected, she possessed far too much feminine arrogance to retreat.

He had noticed the dirt on her gown as he rode toward her, and told himself it was a good omen. The lady of Desire was not above getting her hands dirty.

Gajeel shook off the memories. He tossed aside the herb-scented linen drying cloth and reached for a fresh gray tunic.


	6. Chapter 5

As he dressed, he glanced at one of the large tapestries that warmed the stone walls of the chamber. Flowers and herbs, the source of Desire's profits, appeared to be a common theme everywhere on the isle, he noted. Even the beautifully woven hangings depicted garden scenes.

This was a land of scented blooms and lush greenery. Who would have guessed that Kurogane of Wyckmere would come to such a pretty, sweet-smelling place to claim his own hearth? Gajeel thought.

But he was well satisfied with the Isle of Desire. He sensed that it held that which he sought.

He fastened his long leather belt around his hips and then he padded barefooted past one of the narrow windows cut into the stone wall. The warm, perfumed breeze made him think of Levy's hair.

Gajeel had been obliged to inhale the scent of her blue tresses as he had carried her before him through the village and along the road to the hall.

The smell of flowers had blended with but had not disguised the sweet, intriguing scent that was hers and hers alone. The fragrance had captivated Gajeel She smelled like no other woman he had ever known.

The subtle, heady perfume combined with the feel of her softly rounded hips pressed against his leg had done something to Gajeel's insides. A deep, powerful hunger had stirred to life within him.

His brows drew together and his jaw tightened as he recalled the raw force of that hunger. He would have to make certain it stayed within bounds. He had not survived this long by allowing his emotions to rule him.

Panther Lily caught his eye at that moment. "So you knew the lady of Desire on sight?" He shook his short, wet hair with wry admiration. "I congratulate you, Gajeel. As usual, you were quick to add the facts together and determine the correct sum."

"It was not very difficult." Gajeel sat down on a stool to pull on leather boots. "Enough of that discussion. I'm interested to hear whatever you learned about the kidnapping incident."

"There is not much to tell. As you know, I downed a few mugs of ale with the crowd at the local tavern in Dreyar last night. The most interesting thing I learned is that all parties concerned, including Sir Laxus, his entire household, and the lady herself, insist that there was no kidnapping."

Gajeel shrugged. "Only to be expected. A lady's reputation is involved."

"Aye. The tale is that she made an unexpected visit to Sir Laxus which lasted four days."

"After which he offered marriage?"

"Aye. The lady refused." Panther Lily chuckled. "You must admit that took courage under the circumstances."

"That it did. Most women would have yielded to the inevitable." Satisfaction flowed through Gajeel. His future bride was not one to collapse in the face of blatant intimidation. He approved of that sort of courage.

Up to a point.

"By way of excuse she told him that her guardian, Metalicana of Landry, had agreed to allow her to choose her own husband."

"That must have been when she decided to write to my father and request a selection of candidates for the position."

"No doubt."

"It also explains why my father instructed me to waste no time claiming my bride." Gajeel reflected on that briefly. "He suspects that Laxus will soon make another attempt to get his hands on Desire."

"A second kidnapping might not be so easy to brush aside." Panther Lily paused briefly. "As a matter of curiosity, what do you intend to do about Laxus?"

"Nothing for now. I do not expect that Levy will willingly charge him with kidnapping or rape, even though she is now safe."

"She has her reputation to consider. As do you, Gajeel. The lady will not thank you for dragging her honor through the mud."

"Nay. And I have other concerns at the moment. I will deal with Laxus later."

Laxus of Dreyar would pay for what he had done, but that payment would be made at a place and hour of Gajeel's choosing. Kurogane of Wyckmere sometimes took his time when it came to exacting revenge, but sooner or later, he always claimed it.

He had his own reputation to consider.

Panther Lily got to his feet, turned toward the window, and braced his hands on the ledge. He looked out over the fields of flowers that lay beyond the old wooden curtain wall that surrounded the hall. He drew a deep breath of the fresh, flowery air.

"'Tis a most unusual land you have come to claim," Panther Lily said. "And a most unusual lady. To say nothing of the rest of the household."

"Aye. What is the boy to Lady Levy?"

"Happy?" Panther Lily smiled. "A spirited lad, is he not? He could do with some exercise, though. He has a fondness for fish."

"Aye."

"He and his mother, the Lady Lucy, both live here at the hall. Lady Lucy is a widow."

Gareth glanced at Panther Lily. "The boy is all Lady Lucy has left?"

"It seems her husband sold everything he owned, including his lands in the north, to raise money for his adventures in the Holy Land. He managed to get himself killed there. They were left penniless."

"So Lady Lucy came to Desire seeking a place for herself and her son in this hall?"

"Aye." Panther Lily's expression turned speculative. "I have the impression that your lady is very softhearted about such matters."

"Is that so?"

"Lucy and her son are not the only ones to whom she has given a home. Her elderly marshal, who should have been replaced years ago, by the looks of him, and her old nurse still live here, too. Apparently they had nowhere else to go."

"Any other strays about?"

Panther Lily frowned slightly. "Happy said that a couple of months ago a young minstrel and jester showed up on the hall doorstep. Levy took them in, too. They will no doubt entertain us this evening. Happy told me that Levy is very fond of love songs."

Gajeel reflected on Levy's recipe for a husband. "I feared as much."

"The minstrel's name is Jet and the Jester is Droy. An Happy informs me that the duo is devoted to their new lady."

"They are a great nuisance with their silly songs of seduction and cuckoldry."

"The ladies love such ballads."

"There will be no songs of that sort sung here," Gajeel said quietly. "See that those two are instructed in that regard."

"Aye, sir." Panther Lily's teeth flashed in a grin before he turned back to the window.

Gajeel ignored his companion's ill-concealed mirth. As usual, he did not pretend to comprehend what Panther Lily found so vastly entertaining. The important thing was that Gajeel knew his orders would be carried out.

Satisfied that he was once again clean and clothed in fresh garments, Gajeel strode toward the door of the chamber. "I believe it is time for me to present myself again to my future wife. She and I have much to discuss."

"You will find her in her garden."

Gareth looked back over his shoulder. "How do you know that?"

"Because I can see her from here." Panther Lily gazed down through the open window. A smile still hovered about his thin lips. "She is addressing her loyal household. I'll wager that she is giving them instructions for the defense of the hall."

"What in the name of the devil are you talking about? This hall is not under attack."

"That, my friend, is clearly a matter of opinion. It seems to me that your lady is preparing to withstand a siege."

"From me?"

"Aye."


	7. Chapter 6

"All of the men and horses are properly settled?" Levy frowned intently as she paced the garden in front of her assembled household.

Her makeshift family, composed of people who had no other home, sat on the stone bench beneath the apple tree or stood nearby.

Happy, his face still aglow from his first ride astride a real war-horse, was positioned on the bench between his mother, Lucy, Droy, and Jet.

Mirajane, the marshal of the hall, stood at the end of the bench, had an expression one of great uneasiness. She had good reason to be alarmed. As marshal, she was charged with the day-to-day tasks of running the household. She was the one who had to make certain that the kitchens were supplied with the vast quantities of food required to feed the new arrivals. It was also her responsibility to ensure that the servants saw to such matters as preparing baths, mending clothes, and cleaning the garderobes.

It was all a great nuisance, Levy thought.

"Oh, aye, my lady. Certainly. Indeed." Mirajane straightened her shoulders and made an obvious effort to appear in control of the situation.

"I am amazed that you found room for so many. I trust I shall not find any of these great oafs sleeping on the stairs or in my solar?"

"Nay, my lady," Mirajane assured her earnestly. "There were chambers enough for his lordship and some of the others on the upper floors. The rest will sleep on pallets in the main hall or in the stables. Rest assured all will be carried out properly."

"Calm yourself, Levy." Lucy looked up from her needlework and smiled. "All is under control."

Lucy wasn't older than Levy. She was a pretty woman with golden blond hair, soft brown eyes, and gentle features.

Married at the age of fifteen to a man who had been twenty years her senior, Lucy had soon found herself widowed and penniless with a small son.

Desperate, she had arrived on Levy doorstep three years earlier to claim a very distant relationship based on the fact that her mother and Levy's had once been close friends. Levy had taken Lucy and Happy into the household.

Lucy had immediately begun to contribute to the income of Desire by virtue of her brilliant needlework.

Levy had been quick to see the possibilities inherent in Lucy's talent. The revenues from the sale of Levy's dried flower and herb concoctions had increased markedly due to the fact that many were now sold in exquisitely embroidered pouches and bags of Lucy's design.

The demand had grown so great that Lucy had instructed several of the village women in the art of embroidery. Some of the nuns of Saint Hermione's also worked under her supervision to create elegantly made pouches for some of Levy's fragrance blends.

"Mirajane, inform cook that she must resist the temptation to dye all of the food blue or crimson or yellow tonight." Levy stalked along the graveled path, her hands clasped behind her back. "You know how much she likes to color the food for special occasions."

"Aye, madam. She says it impresses guests."

"I see no need to go out of our way to impress Sir Gajeel and his men," Levy muttered. "And personally, I do not much care for blue or crimson food."

"Yellow is a nice color, though," Levy mused. "When Abbess Hisui visited last fall, she was much struck by being served a banquet done entirely in yellow."

"It is one thing to entertain an abbess. Quite another to be bothered with a bunch of very large knights and their men-at-arms. By Hermione's sainted sandal, I'll not waste the vast quantity of saffron it would take to dye everything on the table yellow tonight. Saffron is very costly."

"You can afford it, Levy," Lucy murmured.

"That is beside the point."

Mirajane cleared her throat. "I shall speak to cook."

Levy continued to pace. The walled garden was usually a source of pleasure and serenity for her. The flower and herb beds had been carefully planted so as to achieve a complex and tantalizing mixture of scents.

Normally a stroll along the paths was a walk through an invisible world of enthralling, compelling fragrance. Levy's finely honed sense of smell delighted in the experience.

At the moment, however, all she could think about was the very unflowerlike, very unsettling, very masculine odor of Sir Gajeel, Kurogane of Wyckmere.

Beneath the earthy smells of sweat, leather, horse, wool, steel, and road dust that had cloaked Gajeel, had lain another scent, his own. During the ride from the village to the hall, Levy had been enveloped in that essence and she knew she would never forget it.

In some mysterious fashion that she could not explain, Gajeel had smelled right.

Her nose twitched in memory. There had certainly been nothing sweet-smelling about him, but her reaction had reminded Levy of the feeling she got when she had achieved the right blend of herbs, spices, and flowers for a new perfume recipe. There was a sense of completion, a sense of certainty.

The realization sent a shiver through her. Even Raymond de Coleville, the man she had once loved, had not smelled so right

"Was the Iron God Sword fearfully heavy?" Happy asked eagerly. "I could see that Kurogane let you to carry it all the way to the gates of the hall. Sir Natsu said that was most amazing."

"Did he, indeed?" Levy said.

"Sir Natsu said that Kurogane has never offered his sword to anyone else in the whole world," Happy continued, "let alone allowed anyone to carry it in a procession in front of a whole village."

"He did not allow me to carry it," Levy grumbled. "He more or less forced me to do so. He refused to take it from my hands until we reached the hall. I could hardly drop such a valuable blade into the dirt."

Lucy quirked a brow but did not raise her eyes from her needlework. "Why do you think he simply did not resheath it?"

"He claimed he could not get the thing back into its scabbard with me seated in front of him. And he refused to put me down from the beast. He said it would not be chivalrous. Hah. What arrogrance to discourse on the finer points of courtesy when he was, for all intents and purposes, holding me captive."

Lucy pursed her lips. "I have the distinct impression that his lordship does not lack boldness of any kind."

"Sir Natsu says that Kurogane is a very great knight who has destroyed scores of robbers and murderers in the south," Happy said. "Sir Natsu says he showed you great honor by allowing you to carry the Iron God Sword."

"It was an honor I could have done without," Levy said.

She knew full well why Gajeel had politely refused to take back his sword until they had arrived at the very steps of her hall. He had wanted to make certain that everyone along the way, from shepherd to laundress, witnessed the spectacle of the lady of Desire clutching Kurogane's great sword.

No, Kurogane had shown her no great honor, she thought. It had all been a very calculated gesture on his part.

"If you ask me, I do not believe he showed you any great honor, my lady," Droy declared with passionate intensity. "On the contrary. He mocked you." Jet stated

Levy glanced at her new friends.

Droy was a tall, slim young man of the age of nineteen with black hair kept in an unusual, distinctive hairstyle, with a tuft of hair on top of his head jutting upwards and then curving frontwards, he has dark eyes and thin dark eyebrows pointing downwards at their outer edges; his rectangular-shaped face sported sharp features, with prominent cheekbones.

Jet is a slim, young man of average height with orange hair, kept jutting backwards at the sides of his head. He has a sharp face, a prominent, flat and defined nose pointing downwards, and distinctive teeth. Jet donned an open, light-brown coat with yellowish fur trimmings on its edges and sleeves, which reached down below his elbows. Below it was a high-collared purple shirt, with its collar mostly left open, which was sometimes seen left hanging over the checkered belt below it, with a rectangular buckle, and others tucked inside the baggy dark pants covering Jet's legs, in turn tucked inside dark boots. The most distinctive piece of his attire is probably the fancy, extremely high hat matching his coat, with a large brim.

The only time the seemed to find any inner calm was when they performed for her. But Levy could still see too many traces of the anxious, hunted look that had been in his eyes that first day when he had appeared at the hall. Droy donning a distinctive, dark jacket, with a single bandolier passing over his left shoulder. Possessing a high, light collar seemingly made of leafs, and jagged edges and cuffs yet again reminiscent of leafs, with a light stripe going down each of the sleeves

The two men showed up on her door step begging for a place to stay and in turn they will work for her. Levy had taken one look at him and had known that whatever lay in the young men's past was not pleasant. She had taken them in on the spot.

Levy scowled as she considered Jet's impassioned remark. "I do not think he was mocking me, precisely."

"Well, I do," Jet muttered. "He is likely a cruel and murderous man. They do not call him Kurogane of Wyckmere for naught."

Levy whirled around, exasperated. "We must not read too much into a silly nickname."

"I don't think it's silly," Happy said with great relish. "Sir Natsu says he got that name because of all the outlaws he's killed."

Levy groaned. "I'm sure his exploits have been greatly exaggerated."

She halted her pacing abruptly as a very large shadow fell across the graveled path directly in front of her.

As if conjured up by a sorcerer, Gajeel appeared. He had come soundlessly around the corner of the high hedge, giving no warning of his presence until he was directly in front of her.

She glowered at him. It did not seem right that such a large man could move so quietly. "By Saint Hermione's little finger, sir, you gave me a start. You might have said something before you popped out from behind the bushes in such a sudden manner."

"My apologies. I give you fair greeting, my lady," Gajeel said calmly. "I was told I would find you here in your garden." He glanced at the small group still gathered beneath the apple tree. "I have already made the acquaintance of young Happy. Will you introduce me to the lady seated beside him and to the other members of your household?"

"Of course," Levy said stiffly. She rattled off the introductions.

Lucy studied Gareth with assessing interest. "Welcome to Desire, my lord."

"Thank you, madam." Gajeel inclined his head. "It is good to know that I am welcomed here by some. Rest assured that I shall endeavor to meet as many of my lady's requirements as possible."

Levy flushed and motioned quickly to a reluctant-looking Jet and Droy.

"Welcome to our island, Sir Gajeel." Droy said bowing his head

"Welcome to Desire, sir," Jet muttered. He looked mutinous but he wisely kept a civil tongue.

Gareth raised one brow at the duo. "Thank you. I shall look forward to hearing your songs and seeing your dances. I should tell you now that I have very specific preferences in music."

"Have you, sir?" Jet asked, tight-lipped.

"Aye. I do not care for songs about ladies who are seduced by knights other than their wedded lords."

Jet bristled. "Lady Levy delights in songs that tell of the love affairs of ladies and their devoted knights, sir. She finds them very exciting."

"Does she, indeed?" Gajeel arched a brow.

Levy felt herself grow warm. She knew that she was turning a bright shade of pink. "I am told that such ballads are very popular at the finest courts throughout Christendom."

"Personally, I have seldom found it either necessary or convenient to follow the latest fashion," Gajeel said. He gave the small crowd a cool, deliberate look. "I trust you will all excuse your lady and me. We wish to converse in private."

"Of course." Lucy rose to her feet. Then she smiled at Gajeel. "We shall see you at supper. Come along, Happy."

Happy hopped off the bench. He grinned at Gareth. "Is the Iron God Sword very heavy, Sir Gajeel?"

"Aye."

"Do you think that I could lift it if I tried?"

Lucy frowned at him. "Certainly not, Happy. Do not even suggest such a thing. Swords are very dangerous and extremely heavy. You are much too delicate for such weapons."

Happy looked crestfallen

Gajeel looked down at him. "I do not doubt that you could lift a sword, Happy."

Happy beamed.

"Why don't you ask Sir Panther Lily if you can examine his sword?" Gajeel suggested. "It is just as heavy as the Iron God Sword."

"Is it?" Happy looked intrigued by that information. "I shall go and ask him at once."

Lucy looked horrified. "I do not think that is at all wise."

"You may be at ease, Lady Lucy," Gareth said. "Sir Panther Lily has had a great deal of experience with such matters. He will not allow Happy to hurt himself."

"Are you quite certain it is safe?"

"Aye. Now, if you do not mind, madam, I would like to speak with Lady Levy."

Lucy hesitated, obviously torn. Then good manners took over. "Forgive me, sir. I did not wish to be rude." She hurried off after her son.

Levy bit back her annoyance. Now was probably not the best moment to inform Gajeel that Lucy did not want Happy encouraged in his growing enthusiasm for all things pertaining to knighthood. She tapped her toe impatiently as the others took their leave.

"Do not alarm yourself, Levy," Lucy said. "I comprehend how uneasy you are at the prospect of this marriage. But I feel certain that Lord Metalicana would not have sent you a candidate who did not meet the majority of your requirements."

"I'm beginning to wonder about that," Levy said.

Jet and Droy lingered a moment, giving Levy an urgent, searching glance. They both looked frightened but determined.

Levy frowned and quickly shook her head once in a small negative gesture. The last thing she wanted was for either one of them to attempt to be her champion in this awkward situation. The young men stood no chance against Kurogane of Wyckmere.

When they were alone in the garden, Levy turned to face Gajeel. He no longer stank of sweat and steel, but the rose-scented soap he had recently used did not disguise that other essence, the one that smelled so right to her.

She could not help but notice that even though he had discarded hauberk and helm, he did not appear any smaller than he had earlier.

Levy was forced to acknowledge that it was not his physical size, intimidating as that was, which made him seem so large and so very formidable. It was something else, something that had to do with the aura of self-mastery and clear-minded intelligence that radiated from him.

This man would make a very dangerous adversary, Levy thought. Or a very strong, very loyal friend.

But what kind of lover would such a man prove to be?

The question, unbidden and deeply unsettling, had a shattering effect on her.

To cover her strange reaction, Levy sat down quickly on the stone bench. "I trust my servants have made you comfortable, sir."

"Very comfortable." Gajeel sniffed a couple of times, as if testing the air. "I seem to smell of roses at the moment, but I expect the odor will soon fade."

Levy set her teeth. She could not tell if he was complaining, jesting, or merely remarking upon the fragrance. "The rose-perfumed soaps are among our most profitable wares, sir. The recipe is my own invention. We sell great quantities to the London merchants who come to the spring fair in Dreyar."

He inclined his head. "That knowledge will greatly increase my appreciation of my bath."

"No doubt." She mentally braced herself. "There was something you wished to discuss with me, sir?"

"Aye. Our marriage."


	8. Chapter 6 continued

I was going to submit this at the same time as chapter 6, however my computer didn't save this part so I had to rewrite it. Please R&R ^_^

* * *

Levy flinched, but she did not fall off the bench. Under the circumstances, she considered that a great accomplishment. "You are very direct about matters, sir."

He looked mildly surprised. "I see no point in being otherwise."

"Nor do I. Very well, sir, let me be blunt. In spite of your efforts to establish yourself in everyone's eyes as the sole suitor for my hand, I must tell you again that your expectations are unrealistic."

"Nay, madam," Gajeel said very quietly. "'Tis your expectations that are unrealistic. I read the letter you sent to Lord Metalicana. It is obvious you hope to marry a phantom, a man who does not exist. I fear you must settle for something less than perfection."

She lifted her chin. "You think that no man can be found who suits my requirements?"

"I believe that we are both old enough and wise enough to know that marriage is a practical matter. It has nothing to do with the passions that the troubadours make so much of in their foolish ballads."

Levy clasped her hands together very tightly. "Kindly do not condescend to lecture me on the subject of marriage, sir. I am only too well aware that in my case it is a matter of duty, not desire. But in truth, when I composed my recipe for a husband, I did not believe that I was asking for so very much."

"Mayhap you will discover enough good points in me to satisfy you, madam."

Levy blinked. "Do you actually believe that?"

"I would ask you to examine closely what I have to offer. I think that I can meet a goodly portion of your requirements."

She surveyed him from head to toe. "You most definitely do not meet my requirements in the matter of size."

"Concerning my size, as I said earlier, there is little I can do about it, but I assure you I do not generally rely upon it to obtain my ends."

Clare gave a ladylike snort of disbelief.

"'Tis true. I occasionally prefer to use my wits rather than muscle if possible."

"Sir, I shall be frank. I want a man of peace for this isle. Desire has never known violence. I intend to keep things that way. I do not want a husband who thrives on the sport of war."

He looked down at her with an expression of surprise. "I can't say I have no love of violence or war."

Clare raised her brows. "You, who carry a sword with a terrible name, You, who wears a reputation as a destroyer of murderers and thieves, believe that you life on a small island selling flowers? It makes me want to laugh."

"I did say I had interest in such matters. However I have, after all, used a warrior's skills to make my way in the world. They are the tools of my trade, that's all."

"You may have a point, but I have grown weary of violence, sir. I seek a quiet, peaceful life." Levy said looking away from Gajeel

"As do I" he said

Levy did not bother to hide her skepticism. "An interesting statement, given your choice of career."

"I did not have much choice in the matter of my career," Gareth said. Levy sat there silent for a moment then regained her train of thought

"Let us go on to your second requirement. You wrote that you desire a man of cheerful countenance and even temperament. Do you consider yourself any of these two things?"

"Nay, I admit that I have been told my countenance is somewhat less than cheerful, and I am most definitely a not man of even temperament."

"I do believe that , sir."

"You see? We are making progress here. Getting to know one another" Gareth reached up to grasp a limb of the apple tree. "Now, then, to continue. Regarding your last requirement, I remind you yet again that I can read."

Levy cast about frantically for a fresh tactic. "Enough, sir. I grant that you meet a small number of my requirements if one interprets them very broadly. But what about your own? Surely there are some specific things you seek in a wife."

"My requirements?" Gajeel looked taken back by the question. "My requirements in a wife are simple, madam. I believe that you will satisfy them."

"Because I hold lands and the recipes of a plump perfume business? Think twice before you decide that is sufficient to satisfy you, sir. We live a simple life here on Desire. Quite boring in most respects. You are a man who is no doubt accustomed to the grand entertainments provided in the households of great lords."

"I can do without such entertainments, my lady. They hold no appeal for me."

"You have obviously lived an adventurous, exciting life," Levy persisted. "Will you find contentment in the business of growing flowers and making perfumes?"

"Aye, madam, I will," Gajeel said with soft satisfaction.

"'Tis hardly a career suited to a knight of your reputation, sir."

"Rest assured that here on Desire I expect to find the things that are most important to me."

Levy lost patience with his reasonableness. "And just what are those things, sir?"

"Lands, a hail of my own, and a woman who can give me a family." Gajeel reached down and pulled her to her feet as effortlessly as though she were fashioned of thistledown. "You can provide me with all of those things, lady. That makes you very valuable to me. Do not imagine that I will not protect you well. And do not think that I will let you slip out of my grasp."

"But—"

Gareth brought his mouth down on hers, silencing her protest.


End file.
